In the Ice
by CoralReef1989
Summary: HTTYD drabbles. "She comes by more often these days; she says it's because she knows he'll do something crazy and stupid and dangerous if he's left alone too long, but he thinks she might just be trying to save him from having to go through the worst of grieving for a father alone." HiccupxAstrid
1. In The Ice

It all slows.

Or maybe, up until now, everything has just been going too fast and he never realized it. His mother, the ice breathing Alphas, Drago, the army, his...his father. Too fast...

He's not fearless like his father.

He's going to die.

The dark Alpha's slitted eyes are turned on him, and Toothless is quivering, still fighting off its influence. It parts it jaw and lets loose an icy exhale, and all of the chaos and panic and terror suddenly slides to a halt, becoming as frozen as the Alpha's breath.

The battle is motionless around him—weapons about to be drawn, catapults in mid launch, dragons spewing molten fire, Drago's head raised upward as he let out a blood-curdling wail. Astrid is letting loose an arrow. It takes more time to spot Valka; her shape and height aren't as familiar too him as he wishes they were.

They're all too far away. He can't hold onto them like he wants to.

But Toothless is right here in this moment with him, curled around him, chest rising and falling against his back in panting breaths the move in time with his own.

And then, everything turns cold. Colder than anything he's ever felt before, which is saying a lot coming from a kid raised in Berk. It's the kind of cold that slips right into you like a knife. Toothless slams into him and his legs give out. A second later his realizes his can't see anything anymore. Maybe because his face is pressed against the underside of Toothless's black belly, or because the sheet of ice around them doesn't let any light through. It doesn't really matter, so he just closes his eyes; it all looks the same no matter what.

There's no sound in here, or sight, or smell, but he can _feel_ everything. He knows seconds are passing by and he's just lying here breathing. What a lousy way to die.

His cheek is pressed hard against Toothless's chest. He can feel the dragon's heart flying, it's pace uneven. He flattens his palm against the scaly skin. _It's okay_.

Well, what a lie, it's not okay, but it just... _is_.

The heartbeat slows. He counts them, times his breaths to them.

_It's okay._

Repeating the phrase in his mind isn't enough to convince himself, but he hopes maybe Toothless will sense his calm and follow suit.

He loves a lot of people on Berk. Every one of its citizens, in a way; that comes with being a chief, or at the least the son of one. He loves Astrid. He loved his father. He think he might have been able to love Valka.

But Toothless isn't like that. He found and named and loved that dragon before anyone else. Even when the entire island of Berk made him feel like a pathetic weakling, he rode on Toothless and he felt like the strongest, bravest, most invincible Viking to ever live.

Toothless's heartbeat resembles something closer to normal now. Maybe Hiccup's soothing worked, or maybe not, and it's just the cold catching up with them and slowing their hearts until they finally stop. He guesses that the temperature will kill them before anything else. But he doesn't really feel that bone-splitting chill anymore. Maybe dying is kind like that—comfortable. He hopes so. He hopes Stoick didn't feel any pain.

He presses his palm harder against Toothless: _It's okay._ He feels Toothless's ribs expand and push back: _Love you_.

He's not cold at all now—warm even. It feels like summer on Berk, when the sun is highest and everything is bright and the sky is blue instead of it's usual grey.

Kind of like _now_.

He shoves his palm away from Toothess's skin. A second later, his brain catches up to the instinctual movement, and he realizes his hand is stinging like it does when he accidentally brushes it on the white-hot metal he's molding in Gobber's shop.

Toothless curls his limbs in, pushing Hiccup more tightly beneath him. A bead of sweat slides down his temple and catches on a dimple on his cheek.

The dragon exhales a long, long breath. It feels like air escaping from a fireplace when you pull back the metal screen. It fills every crevice in the tiny gap and stuffs their bubble in the ice with smoldering heat. _It's okay_, he feels.

He starts to believe it.

And the ice bursts apart.

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Thank you for reading. Reviews are so kind.


	2. Totally Hot

Thanks for the really sweet comments guys! Some people asked for more, so here's another shot!

* * *

Even though now he wears it like a badge of honor, even after _everything_, he is still reminded, every time he hears his name.

There is a tradition here on Berk, that the runt of the litter—the smallest one, the weakling who never made it to full size or strength—is named a 'hiccup'. A mistake.

Hiccup thinks of it like this: maybe the gods were going from baby to baby, infusing them with proper Viking-like fury and matching bulging biceps, when—_hiccup_—the gods got distracted and skipped right over him, the little son of Berk's chief, the future leader of the Hooligan tribe. Whoops. _Hiccup_.

Valka tells it a bit differently: he was born early into the world, tiny and frail, fated to die as quickly as he had been birthed, when the gods smiled down upon her son and breathed life into him, and gave him a glorious destiny to be fulfilled.

Well, he'll never know what the gods had in mind, but he does know that, glorious destiny or not, the muscles never grew in.

He's not vain. It's just that he has a girlfriend.

Astrid isn't vain either. He's so happy that she loves him for his mind, and everything that he is inside. But he wants her to look at him and feel that stirring in her stomach like he feels when he sees her. That warm, physical attraction that is something entirely different than appreciating someone's courage or wit. He wants the best for Astrid, and he wants her to be happy with him, in every way possible.

He tells her as much, when they're sitting alone next to the fireplace in his home. She comes by more often these days; she says it's because she knows he'll do something crazy and stupid and dangerous if he's left alone too long, but he thinks she might just be trying to save him from having to go through the worst of grieving for a father alone.

"Hiccup," she says, tone scolding, and he winces because,_ there_, he's reminded of what he is _again_. "You can't be serious."

"I'm just saying," he defends, "I know, when people look at us together, they think..." He frowns at her withering expression. "I know what you're going to say. But this isn't about me, or my confidence. I'm just saying, when people first see me, before I prove to them what I can do, they'll still see the hiccup first. I can handle that. I can keep on proving myself. But I know that, if we, well, you know," he nods vaguely at her hand, entwined with his, and casts a pointed look at her ring finger, "well, you'll have to... see me a lot, and... I just want to make sure."

Okay, it sounds a lot like a confidence problem when he says it out loud.

He expects her to jab her fist into his gut, like she always does when he starts spewing out stuff like this, but she just tightens her grip on his hands.

"Hiccup," she says, and he_ likes_ the way the name sounds when she says it like that. "You know what I see when I look at you? Just physically, no emotions involved? Totally, honestly."

He gives her a crooked smile. "A six foot twig missing a leg?" He says it like he's joking, but, well...

"I see this guy who's small and thin and doesn't look anything like anyone is supposed to on Berk..." he frowns, "...because he was never meant to stay on Berk. I look at you, and I see someone who is made for something more than living and dying on this rocky island. You were born for the sky."

He looks into the fire, because if he looks at her he might just burst.

"My gods, look at you, Hiccup. You're not the fastest just because you ride on a Night Fury. You're lithe. You cut through the wind. You were _built_ for this. You're _made_ to fly."

"I love you."

It's not the first time he's said it, but it's the first time he's said it and felt like: this is a promise.

"And…" she drones on, "I happen to find you pretty hot. Very attractive."

"Oh gods…" He feels the edges of his ears turning pink. "Please, don't. Now I just feel pathetic."

"I'm serious! Like, totally hot. Smoking—"

He stops her by slamming his lips against hers.

"Shut. Up.," he murmurs into her mouth.

"This is pretty hot too."

He laughs, and she wraps her arms around his torso and presses her cheek to his chest, listening to the sound.

"I love you too," she sighs.

She's said it before, too, but it's first time she's said it that it feels like: this is only the beginning.


	3. For Now

"You stupid, stubborn, ridiculous, insane, stupid, reckless, _stupid_..."

"I get it," he mutters, hoarsely. "I'm stupid."

"Don't be too hard on him, now, dear." Valka ducks her chin to hide a smile as she wrings out a cloth over a bowl of warm water. "He needs his strength."

Astrid thins her lips, still red faced and clearly itching for a fight, but she holds back. "Fine." She sweeps her bangs back from her eyes and fixes an unfriendly glare on Hiccup.

"Come on, Astrid," Hiccup grits. His brows are knit together and his jaw is clenched, but still, he manages a hint of a smile and _more_ than a hint of sarcasm as he says, "I thought you didn't mind the peg-leg! What's one more?"

"Shut up!" she snaps. "How many times do I have to watch you narrowly avoid death?"

"But you have to admit, I do a pretty great job of avoiding it." This time he manages a full grin.

"_Hiccup_..." But there's less bite in her tone this time, and he thinks she might be biting back a smile too.

Valka lets loose a laugh, drifting across the room to stand beside his bed. There's something untamed and wild about her tall, willowy frame that Hiccup can never separate from the woman she's become since settling back on Berk—a proper, domestic, Viking mother. "Hush now, let me take a look at your leg."

She rolls away the fabric of his breeches from his good leg—well, what was his good leg. The skin around his ankle is tight and stained black and blue. She runs her long fingers across it. "I don't think you've broken anything. You're very lucky. A fall from that high could have easily killed you."

Hiccup looks a bit too pleased at this. He smirks at Astrid. "See? I_ told_ you I'd be—"

"Hiccup!" She takes the damp cloth from Valka's hands and presses it to his temple to wipe away the sweat and grime. "Didn't you hear what she said? You could have _died_."

This time Hiccup catches it—the waver in her voice. Sometimes she's so good at aggression that he forgets something else might be hiding underneath it.

"Hey," he says. Aware that Valka is still beside them, he shifts his hand a few inches until his fingers brush against hers. "We're Vikings. It's an occupational hazard."

Astrid sighs heavily, like she's fed up with his sarcasm, but he thinks it might be partially out of relief too. The thing about Astrid is she hates to show weakness or fear, but he's getting better at reading her. "You must not be too badly hurt if you have the energy for this many bad jokes," she quips.

He chuckles, and this time Astrid joins in.

His laugh turns into a moan as Valka lifts his foot. She starts to wrap a cloth tightly around it, pressing down against the tender spot on his ankle. Astrid's fingers find their way beneath his and interlock.

"Remind me," he hisses through clenched teeth, "never to jump off a dragon again."

Astrid rolls her eyes. "I would if I thought you'd listen."

Valka ties off the bandage and sets his foot back down. "You'll be staying off of it, for a few days, at least."

"A few days? But _mom_—"

"No one wants to see you wobbling around the village like a newborn fawn, son."

Hiccup scrunches his face, this time not in pain, but with embarrassment at Valka's excessive nurturing. Stoick was never one to coddle; he was more the type to say that the best way to deal with an injured leg was to walk it off. He's still getting used to his mother's way about things.

"I'll go get more water," Valka says quietly, and she wanders from the room, leaving the door ajar.

As soon as Valka is out of sight, Astrid's posture slackens, her whole body shifting closer to him. "I know what you're thinking."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you do?"

"You're thinking, _flying dragons is technically staying off my feet_." The line is coupled by her best Hiccup Haddock impression, complete with exaggerated nasal voice and flailing arms.

"That doesn't even sound like me," he groans, but they've had this discussion before. "And that wasn't what I was thinking."

She looks at him closely. "What are you thinking, then?"

"That I'm really glad you're here," he says, tightening his grip on her hand. He lifts it and places it on his chest, over his heart. "What are _you_ thinking, Milady?"

Her stormy eyes soften in a way he's only ever seen when they're alone. "Oh, Hiccup," she murmurs, and suddenly she looks as if she's about to cry.

"Hey, what? What's wrong?" He's more than a bit shocked. Even around him, Astrid still guards her emotions so closely. He can't remember the last time he saw her shed a tear.

He tugs on her arm and she comes willingly, falling against him, head pressing into the crook between his head and shoulder. "I was scared. I thought you had really..."

"I'm fine," he promises.

"I know." She exhales a warm breath against his neck. "I know that. I just..." Her voice hitches, and she pushes her weight up onto her elbows so she can look into his eyes. "It's like, back when you were fighting off Drago, and the Alpha covered you in ice... There was this moment, when I thought I had just watched you die. I thought I was really going to have to live without you. And I don't _want _to."

She's never told him this before. He wasn't sure if she'd even seen it happen—after all, a battle had been raging around them. But, in that moment, he had been pretty sure he was about to die too.

"I like who I am around you," she admits, looking down at him with wide eyes. Some of her blonde hair has come loose from her braid, falling past her face and skimming his cheeks. "I don't want to lose that. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

He knows how much courage it must be taking her to say this out loud—how much this must be grating on her for her to admit it. He usually has to weed these things out of her like fallen metal scraps from a still blazing fire. "Me too," he whispers. "We're... we're in this together, you know?"

The both laugh at how silly that statement sounds. But, at the same time, it sends shivers down his spine, because the thought of Astrid maybe wanting to spend the rest of her life with him too is exhilarating.

"Right," Astrid declares, looking much more put together as she lifts herself back into a sitting position beside him. "And that means it's my job to make sure you don't go doing something stupid in the next few days. Like try to take a joyride on a Night Fury when both your legs are out of commission."

"Alright, alright, I hear you," he concedes, rolling his eyes for emphasis. But he keeps his fingers pressed against hers, a reminder of the moment that just passed between them.

It's then that Valka finds her way back into the room, arms filled with a bowl brimming with steaming water. Astrid stands up to help her lower it onto the table.

"Thank you, dear," she says, patting a hand against Astrid's arm. She turns away to douse another cloth into the liquid, but not before Hiccup catches the glint of a tear slipping down her cheek. She brushes a palm past her face, and it's gone.

Hiccup doesn't know what she's crying for—if she heard Astrid and him speaking, or if she's remembering Stoick, or becoming overwhelmed at life on Berk again. Or something else entirely—it's so hard to tell, when there are still so many things about Valka that he doesn't know yet.

But they're all here, together, for now, and that is good enough.

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Thanks all who have been reading and reviewing, so sweet! If anyone has any suggestions for more drabbles, do let me know, because inspiration is always the hardest part.


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